My Father’s Dying Days Showed Me There’s No Such Thing as “Death with Dignity”: Narrative.ly
My father is dying and no one is trying to save him.
“You don’t even give IV fluids?” I ask the hospice nurse.
“No, he’s on his own journey now.”
But a person can’t travel without water, I think.
I try to be reassured by the nurse’s words even as I see my father grasp for the liquid-soaked sponge lollipop we place against his parched lips. The thimble of water remains pooled in his mouth. Alzheimer’s disease doesn’t just make minds weak; bodies, too, forget how to function.